


Many The Miles

by IrishBahorel



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Minor Character Death, Phone Sex, Slow Burn, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:29:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26991427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrishBahorel/pseuds/IrishBahorel
Summary: He should be appreciating it more, he knew he should be, it was the last time they would all be together before he left for New York in the morning. He hummed quietly to himself as he thought of the study abroad year he was leaving for and felt the panic rise in his chest.Combeferre barely registered the sound of the window sliding open before Grantaire’s soft “Hey,” alerted him to the painter’s presence.“Hi,” Combeferre smiled tightly as he raised his gaze, watching as Grantaire pulled a cigarette from a pack and raised it to his lips, the click of the lighter and the traffic below the only sounds between them.
Relationships: Combeferre/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	Many The Miles

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be like 6k words shorter...
> 
> But please enjoy my first ever fic!

It was hot in the apartment with everyone crowded around, laughing and joking and the occasional boat of tears poorly hidden as they drank. It was all getting to be too  _ hot _ and too  _ loud _ and too  _ much  _ for Combeferre.

The blast of the night chill was welcoming when he finally escaped out to the fire escape, shutting the window softly behind him, muting his friends and allowing the sounds of the city below to wash over him as he sat on the steps, resting his elbows on his knees as he focused his eyes on his shoes.

He should be appreciating it more, he knew he should be, it was the last time they would all be together before he left for New York in the morning. He hummed quietly to himself as he thought of the study abroad year he was leaving for and felt the panic rise in his chest.

Combeferre barely registered the sound of the window sliding open before Grantaire’s soft “Hey,” alerted him to the painter’s presence.

“Hi,” Combeferre smiled tightly as he raised his gaze, watching as Grantaire pulled a cigarette from a pack and raised it to his lips, the click of the lighter and the traffic below the only sounds between them.

“Do you-” Combeferre paused to wet his lips, eyes trained on the lit cigarette Grantaire was holding, “can I have one?” He asked, grateful for the relative darkness to hide the blush creeping across his cheeks.

Grantaire raised a brow in surprise of the guides request but silently passed the pack and the lighter, waiting until Combeferre lit his smoke and handed them back before joining him to sit on the fire escape step.

They sat in silence as they smoked, only once Combeferre had finished his and stood to place the butt in the old cracked pot they used for this purpose did Grantaire look up at Combeferre. 

“It’s only an eight hour flight.” He spoke softly, “you’ll be home by Christmas.”

With a sad smile, Combeferre met Grantaire’s dark eyes and nodded, he tried to speak but found a lump in his throat stopping him. Grantaire stood up and took a step forward, after a moment of hesitation he raised his hand to gently rest it on Combeferres shoulder, giving a slight squeeze.

“Courf is planning a Skype schedule,” Grantaire grinned, “You’ll be too sick of us to even start missing us.” They were standing close to each other, Combeferre noticed, neither making any move to pull away. Grantaire was looking up through his eyelashes and wet his lips, it wouldn’t take much effort for Combeferre to tilt his head and meet his lips with his own.

They were startled into jumping apart before he had the chance however, by Bahorel slamming the window open, almost tumbling out of it as he and Feuilly pushed each other onto the tight space of the fire escape, lighting up their own cigarettes as they laughed and joked with each other.

Combeferre smiled tightly at the interruption and moved past them to go back inside, taking one last look at Grantaire who looked back with an odd expression.

It was late by the time Joly and Bossuet began the process of leaving, the rest of their friends quickly following suit as they packed up their things and gave their last goodbyes to Combeferre. Enjolras had fallen asleep an hour ago, only moving from the couch to his bedroom when Courfeyrac prodded him none too gently before leaving the apartment himself.

Combeferre was locking the door when he heard the sound of someone in the kitchen and tiredly made his way to see who was still remaining. When he rounded the corner he was surprised to see Grantaire at the sink washing up the glasses and plates.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said, startling Grantaire who’s grip loosened on a glass and only just managed to catch it. 

Grantaire turned with a smile and gently set the glass on the side as he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms across his chest. “One less thing for you to worry about.” Combeferre hummed in acknowledgment as he stepped further into the small kitchen standing directly in front of Grantaire.

“Do you want to stay the night?” Combeferre asked, aiming for a casual tone that didn’t quite land judging by the stiffness of Grantaires shoulders and his deep sigh.

“I can’t- we can’t,” he started, turning back to the sink though he didn’t continue the washing up.

“R, please-”

“You were the one who wanted to stop.” Grantaire responded flatly, his back still to him.

“Because I’m leaving.” Combeferre reminded him.

Grantaire let out a short humourless laugh, “I know. You’re leaving, leaving Paris, leaving me.” This time he turned back around, the tilt of his chin daring Combeferre to deny it. But when Combeferre lowered his gaze and remained silent Grantaire scrubbed a hand over his face and his shoulders slumped, the fight in him disappearing as quickly as it had risen. “I didn’t mean that.”

“I’m sorry,” Combeferre told him sincerely, “I wish there was another way.”

Grantaire closed his eyes and shook his head. “I know, you need to do this. I’m just drunk, ignore me.”

“You haven’t had a drink in hours.” Combeferre took a step forward but Grantaire sidestepped him, inching closer to the door.

Grantaire shot him a look of anger, “have you been counting?”

But Combeferre shook his head, “I pay attention to you, R, I always do.” He let the silence hang between them as Grantaire donned the same odd look from earlier in the evening. Combeferre wished he knew what he was thinking but they had barely begun this  _ thing _ that they purposely didn’t talk about when his Eurasmus acceptance came through. None of their friends had even known and Combeferre had rationalised that it would be better to end it now than for the distance to do it for them.

When the silence began to become uncomfortable and Combeferre uncharacteristically struggled to think of a single thing to say, Grantaire took a step towards him, nervously licking his lips as Combeferre looked down at him. 

“R-”

“Shut up,” Grantaire interrupted, though there was no heat to his words. Slowly, he placed his hands on Combeferres shoulders, stretching up on his toes as he gently pulled Combeferre closer until their foreheads touched and his eyes fluttered shut. “Just don’t say anything,” he muttered, finally,  _ finally  _ closing the distance between them and brushing his lips to Combeferres for a chaste kiss.

When he tried to pull away however, Combeferre gripped his hips and pulled him into a rough kiss, their lips parted and Combeferre nipped at Grantaire’s lip causing him to let out a breathy sigh as he shifted his hands from Combeferre’s shoulders to his hair, tugging him down to him. Combeferre moved to kiss down Grantaire’s neck, guiding him backwards until Grantaire’s back was pressed against the kitchen counter.

“Stay,” Combeferre pleaded as he kissed along Grantaire’s jawline, one of his hands slipping under his t-shirt and running up his side. Grantaire gasped as Combeferre’s thumb swiped across his nipple and grinded his hips against Combeferre’s, causing both to moan at the friction.

It was rough and it was hot and it was perfect but once Combeferre’s free hand went to unbutton Grantaire’s jeans he felt his hands leave his hair and Grantaire push against his chest with a resounding “Stop!”

Jumping back Combeferre dropped his hands to his sides, Grantaire scrubbed a hand over his face and  _ oh _ his lips were red and swollen and Combeferre longed to be kissing him again but instead he settled for a quiet, “I’m sorry.” as Grantaire fixed his shirt.

“I know,” Grantaire sighed and he sounded so hurt and defeated and Combeferre hated that it was his fault. 

There were no further words as Grantaire pushed past Combeferre towards the door, stopping only to unlock it before slipping out and silently closing it behind him.

**

“Do you still not have any furniture?” Courfeyrac greeted Combeferre, his face pressed unnecessarily close to the screen as if he could climb through the camera and into the apartment through sheer will alone.

Combeferre shrugged in response at the laptop in front of him where he sat on the floor of his apartment. “I haven’t had a lot of free time for shopping.”

“It’s been a month!” And really when had that happened? Combeferre wondered as Courfeyrac began listing websites and suggestions for furniture, he had only arrived in New York two days before the semester began which didn’t leave him with enough time to prepare for uni and go shopping for the tiny bare apartment he had moved into and hasn’t had much spare time since. Besides, he had a bed, a fridge and a mostly working microwave which was basically the extent of what he could afford.

“How’s everyone doing?” Combeferre eventually interrupted Courfeyrac who grinned in response.

“You saw the posts about the protest right?” Combeferre nodded, “well we had planned it pretty well - even without your binders - and it stayed peaceful for the most part. To be honest it was basically winding down when some asshole threw a bottle.” 

“Did anyone get hurt?” He asked, picking up one of the takeaway menus lying beside him and thinking of his dinner.

“R ended up with a black eye but it’s nothing serious,” Courf shrugged.

Combeferre snapped his eyes up from the menus to the screen. “Is he okay? Did the bottle hit him? Did he get it checked out?”

He ignored Courfeyrac’s amused laugh, impatiently waiting for a response. “Chill out, he was fine. He saw the bottle being lobbed towards Enj and pushed him out of the way. It hit him but Joly ruled it purely superficial and R seemed pretty happy he got to use it for sympathy drinks. It even got him some guy's number.”

“Oh,” Combeferre muttered, bristoling at the thought of Grantaire getting another guy’s number, of him  _ texting _ that number, of him going on a  _ date _ with the guy. He shook his head as if it would clear the image of Grantaire and the stranger out of his mind, it’s none of his business. He made it none of his business.

They continued to talk about the protest and their friends, how Bossuet sprained his ankle in the car park before they even left and had to miss it, how Eponine had made a particularly gripping speech before Enjolras delivered his, how Jehan had documented the whole day on their instagram and Combeferre realised he had only checked  _ Les Amis’  _ official page and not the individual pages of the members.

After finally saying goodbye to Courf, Combeferre opened Instagram and immediately went to Jehan’s page where they had posted various pictures from the protest. There was at least one picture of most of their friends, including plenty of selfies, but Combeferre noted there didn’t appear to be any with Grantaire. Not that he was looking for a picture of Grantaire in particular, of course not, he was just observant.

But then he saw it, on Jehans pinned story, a group photo of them all. And right at the edge of the group, Grantaire was smiling, his arm thrown around Feuilly’s shoulder and a purple bruise already blooming into a black eye.

Combeferre wasn’t sure how long he stared at the picture, but when he finally dropped his phone into his lap he was surprised to find his apartment had fallen into darkness.

**

Halloween parties are nothing like the movies, Combeferre thought, they’re smaller and they’re not nearly as wild, but he’d be lying if he hadn’t thought about getting as drunk as the average protagonist of one. He had been convinced by one of his classmates to come to her party and had expected loud music, crowds of people and kegs scattered around the living room but instead he arrived to find a small group of other med students calmly playing board games. There were no costumes.

After three beers, Combeferre was starting to feel a little cheated out of the great American party Courfeyrac had prepared him for.

He thought back to the previous years party Feuilly and Bahorel had thrown at their apartment, costumes were mandatory and while there had also been board games being played by a group in the corner there was nothing calm about it (the hole in the wall after a particularly intense round of Connect 4 was permanent evidence).

As his classmates discussed their alliances for Risk, Combeferre remembers arriving to Bahorel and Feuilly’s in a last minute Luke Skywalker costume Joly just happened to have spare and seeing Grantaire across the room at the drinks table, a beaming smile appearing as he motioned at his own Han Solo costume.

“We match!” He shouted in greeting, making his way over to Combeferre who could only grin in response.

A hand on his shoulder jolted Combeferre out of his thoughts. “Are you okay? You seem a bit spaced out?” Molly asked, concern clear on her face.

“Sorry, I just need a moment.” Combeferre told her, standing up and striding out the room and into the bathroom.

He turned the tap on and ran his hands under the water before rubbing them across his face to freshen up. As he met his reflection in the mirror he took note of the dark circles under his eyes and considered how much longer he would have to stay before he could escape to his own apartment. Glancing at his watch revealed it was far too early to leave yet and he barely suppressed a groan as he ran a hand through his hair.

_ One more hour, _ he told himself,  _ just one more hour. _

__ When Combeferre was finally home he collapsed onto his bed still fully clothed. He had had more than a few more drinks before calling it a night and he was definitely buzzed. He checked his phone and saw a long thread of messages from the Amis’ group chat where they had been discussing their own Halloween plans, though he read only the last message from Grantaire saying that he wasn’t going to be joining.

Combeferre clicked on the icon for Grantaire, his contact photo increasing on the screen, a simple photo of him staring at something away from the camera as he smiled crookedly. Combeferre would be lying if he said he remembered when it was taken or what Grantaire had been looking at but it had been long enough he assumed it had something to do with Enjolras.

His finger hovered over the call button and before he had too long to think about it, he pressed the button, heart beating hard as he heard the dial tone ring once, twice, three times before, “Hello?” Grantaire answered groggily.

A lump formed in Combeferre’s throat as he heard the painter's voice for the first time in months.

“Combeferre?”

“Do you remember last Halloween?” Combeferre finally blurted out the first thing he could think of. “We accidentally wore matching costumes and strangers though we were a couple for the whole night? You thought it’d be funny to play it up so you kept calling me ‘babe’ and sharing my drink. You even convinced me to dance with you. Enjolras though I’d finally lost it.”

The silence on the phone lasted long enough that Combeferre began to fear Grantaire had hung up. Just as he was about to check, Grantaire finally responded. “It’s like six AM, Ferre, why are you calling me now?”

“I think that's the moment I realised, you know?” Combeferre continued without answering his question, “looking back, that’s the moment I realised, maybe,  _ just maybe,  _ you weren’t completely stuck on Enjolras, that you could eventually move on and it made me hope, you know? Hope that one day you’d see me and not him.”

“It’s six AM.” Grantaire’s tone was dangerously low and even drunk, Combeferre knew that wasn’t good. “It’s six AM and you’re almost six thousand kilometers away and you’ve called about this? You broke up with me! Except, actually, you didn’t because I seem to recall that you were the one who didn’t want to put a label on it in the first place, didn’t want anyone to find out that you were fucking the drunk-”

“R-” Combeferre pleaded.

“ _ No _ !” Grantaire cut across him. “No. You do not get to ‘R’ me and call me with this bullshit. I wanted this, Ferre, I wanted to try and be together, long distance included but you didn’t think it was worth it and now, what? You’re lonely? Drunk? Horny?” Combeferre struggled to swallow the lump forming in his throat as Grantaire continued, truth after truth being delivered with a vicious blow.

“I told you I loved you and you said it wasn’t enough.” And,  _ oh _ , he was crying now and Combeferre didn’t know what to say, just listened as Grantaire cried, tears streaming silently down his own cheeks.

“The costumes weren’t a mistake, Ferre, Joly told me you were borrowing his Skywalker so I borrowed Bossuet’s Solo. I meant for it to happen.” Grantaire admitted, voice hoarse, and hung up leaving Combeferre feeling cold.

**

“You can let go now.”

“The last time I let go you moved six thousand kilometers away.” Enjolras argued, a hint of petulance in his voice.

“I didn’t move because you let go, you let go cause I moved.” Combeferre chuckled, though he tightened his own grip on his best friend. He had already been greeted by Courfeyrac and Jehan when he arrived at their apartment, opting to to go straight there from his parents house for their annual New Years Eve party, Enjolras arriving only twenty minutes after him, practically launching himself on top of Combeferre who had been been perched on the sofa.

The four of them weren’t left alone long before the rest of their friends began to file in at various times, forcing Enjolras to release his hold on Combeferre in order for everyone to have their own reunions with the guide for the first time since he left in August, though he remained close by, as if expecting him to disappear if Enjolras took his eyes off him for too long.

By ten PM the majority of the Amis’ had arrived and were crammed into the small apartment, though Combeferre noted, there appeared to be one of them missing.

“R’s probably not coming,” he overheard Joly telling Feuilly when he went to get a beer from the fridge. “He had a meeting earlier and wasn’t sure if he’d be feeling it.”

Feuilly hummed in acknowledgment, “he skipped training with Baz yesterday, I went to check on him after work but he didn’t answer.”

Combeferre’s interest was piqued and he turned from the fridge, his quest for a beer forgotten. “Is he okay?” He asked, giving up all pretence that he wasn’t eavesdropping.

Feuilly half smiled at Combeferre, but Joly, he noticed, had a carefully blank expression gracing his features as he replied, “R stopped drinking a few months ago, parties aren’t exactly easy for him.” A brief feeling of jealousy washed over Combeferre as he realised this seemed to be common knowledge between his friends, something he hadn’t been privy to.

“I didn’t know,” Combeferre admitted softly.

“He didn’t want everyone to know, at least not right away,” Feuilly shrugged, but Combeferre focused on Joly, his usually cheerful friend still watched him with a strange blank look that Combeferre couldn’t recall ever being on the receiving end of.

By half eleven, the festivities were in full swing as the Amis drank and sang and danced and cheered, but Combeferre felt as if he was on the outside of the group looking in as he held a full bottle of beer that had long since become warm, unable to enjoy the evening as he thought of Grantaire.

As the apartment started to become too hot and too noisy and too much, Combeferre snuck out onto the empty balcony, taking advantage of Enjolras and Courfeyrac getting into a friendly debate and being distracted.

Closing the door softly behind him, Combeferre closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the cool air, snapping his eyes open at a soft ‘“Hey.”

Grantaire stood in the corner of the balcony, half a lit cigarette in one hand as the other rested in his coat pocket, an amused grin directed at Combeferre for the first time in so long Combeferre felt himself mirroring the same as he automatically moved closer to lean against the railing beside him.

“Can I have one?” Combeferre asked, his shoulder brushing against Grantaire’s as the artist passed the pack, their fingers brushing as Combeferre took it from him before retrieving a cigarette and raising it to his mouth. Just as he was about to ask for a light, Grantaire leaned closer, bringing the lighter to the tip of the cigarette and lighting it for Combeferre as he looked up at the med student with hooded eyes.

They smoked in silence though they watched each other, the tension between them growing. “I’m sorry-” Combeferre began, though he was quickly interrupted.

“I was watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles recently and I realised something.”

“Oh?” Combeferre grinned, because he knew a pointless, distracting conversation when he heard one and if Grantaire was starting one who was he to say no?

“Yeah,” Grantaire continued, “they’re four brothers raised by a rat in the sewers, yet despite them knowing each other and being family, they never take off their masks, which is essentially their only disguises, so it stands to reason that the only reason they wear the masks is because Splinter, who is basically their father, can’t tell them apart! It’s not even like they need the masks when they’re fighting crime, they’re four giant anthropomorphic mutant turtles, even the dumbest civilian will know who they are!”

“That’s an interesting point” Combeferre nodded seriously, “but I think what the civilians should be most worried about is not the masks, but, instead, what’s in their sewers that turned four turtles into mutant ninjas while also giving them human sentience. I can believe an anthropomorphic physical mutation, no problem, but complete human sentience? That’s where I feel the creators are asking us to suspend too much belief.”

Grantaire laughed, a deep, booming laugh that caused Combeferre to ache with want. “Literally no one else takes this seriously, it’s becoming a problem, I feel like the crazy guy on the bus demanding TMNT opinions from strangers just to get through the day.”

“It’s a pressing issue and I understand your concern,” Combeferre moved closer subconsciously, leaning against Grantaire as their sides pressed together.

Through the glass doors, they could see their friends gathering towards the TV as the countdown officially began.

“TEN! NINE! EIGHT!”

“We should probably head in,” Combeferre muttered, though he made no move.

“SEVEN! SIX! FIVE!”

“It’s quite nice out here,” Grantaire turned towards Combeferre, meeting his gaze.

“FOUR! THREE! TWO!”

Combeferre, reached a hand out with a bated breath, beaming when Grantaire gripped it tightly without hesitation.

“ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

As their friends cheered from inside the apartment, Grantaire tugged Combeferre closer, reaching up on his toes to capture his lips in his own. Combeferre squeezed his hand tighter as his free hand slid into Grantaire's hair, causing him to gasp, opening his mouth wider as Combeferre took advantage and slipped his tongue in, both men moaning at the touch.

Grantaire slipped his free arm around Combeferre’s waist, pulling them flush together as they kissed for the first time in months, neither wanting to break apart until a lack of air forced them to, breathing heavily through matching grins as Combeferre leaned to touch their foreheads together.

“You missed the countdown.” Joly interrupted with a frown as the two men jumped apart.

“No need to worry, Jollly,” Grantaire stressed his friends name as he stepped towards him, swinging his arm over the shorter mans shoulders, “We’re coming in now.” And without a backwards glance, Grantaire pulled Joly back inside, leaving Combeferre in the chill of the night.

Several hours later, not long after Combeferre bid Enjolras a goodnight back at their apartment, there was a knock on the front door. Not daring to get his hopes up despite the late hour, Combeferre quickly rose from the armchair and strode over, pulling the door open to reveal Grantaire, arm raised as if to knock again.

“Let me in?” Grantaire asked simply, and Combeferre grabbed him by the hand, drawing him in close as he kissed him hungrily, barely making sure to close the door behind him as Grantaire winded his fingers into Combeferre’s shirt, tugging him closer as Combeferre crowded him against the door, smirking as Grantaire moaned at the contact.

Combeferre broke contact with Grantaire’s mouth only to kiss along his jawline and down to his neck, scraping his teeth on the juncture as Grantaire moaned again, grinding his hips against Combeferre’s.

“Fuck, Ferre,” Grantaire whined, “please-” he cut himself off with a gasp as Combeferre sucked a bruise on his neck, his hand running under Grantaire’s shirt and his thumb brushed over his nipples.

“What do you want?” Combeferre asked, his free hand travelling down to palm Grantaire through his jeans.

Another small noise of pleasure escaped Grantaire before he could finally gasp, “bed, Ferre, fuck- bed  _ please _ !”

Grantaire had barely finished his request when Combeferre gripped his wrist and led him to the bedroom, he sat down on the edge of his bed, Grantaire standing between his thighs as he looked down at Combeferre with dark eyes, he raised his hand to brush Combeferre’s hair back and Combeferre leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering shut at the intimacy.

“I missed you,” Grantaire’s voice cracked and Combeferre opened his eyes, pulling Grantaire into his lap, kissing him soundly, the frenzied desperation from earlier disappearing as they held each other.

“I missed you too,” Combeferre admitted, “I think about you all the time.” Grantaire scoffed in disbelief but Combeferre was determined to show him just how much he missed him.

“I missed your eyes,” he whispered, placing a loving kiss on one eye and then the other as Grantaire attempted to stifle a laugh, “I missed your mind,” he planted a kiss to Grantaire’s brow, “your hands, your neck, your chest,” Combeferre unbuttoned Grantaire’s shirt as he kissed along down him, rolling them over so Grantaire lay on his back, Combeferre moving to straddle his knees as he unbuttoned his jeans. Slowly, he pulled them down, giving Grantaire plenty of time to stop him, but there was no protest, only his heavy breath as Combeferre threw the jeans to the floor and made quick work of removing Grantaire’s boxers.

“I’ve missed you,  _ all of you,”  _ Combeferre repeated, settling between Grantaire’s thighs and placing a kiss to the base of his cock.

Grantaire swore as his hips bucked up in response. Combeferre smirked as he looked Grantaire in the eye, keeping the intense gaze connected, Combeferre wrapped his hand around Grantaire’s cock relishing in the noises he made at the touch. He gripped the base, pumping up once before licking the underside slowly, and teasingly from base to tip before, eyes connected with Grantaire’s. Grantaire groaned, his head falling back into the pillow, before Combeferre pulled away - much to his dismay, “don’t be a fucking tease-”

“Look at me.” Combeferre commanded him.

Grantaire leaned up on one arm, his other hand tangling in Combeferre’s hair. Pleased that Grantaire complied, Combeferre kept his eyes locked with Grantaire’s and sank forward again - taking his entire length in his mouth, the hardness filling his throat.

Grantaire’s hips writhed, and made little shallow thrusts. But he behaved, never taking his eyes off the sight of him gently bobbing up and down, licking each and every part his tongue could swirl around.

It didn’t take long before Grantaire’s grip tightened in Combeferre as he moaned in warning, but Combeferre only hummed around him. With a shout, Grantaire came, Combeferre swallowing around him, staying in place until Grantaire’s hips bucked in sensitivity. Combeferre finally released him, moving up to lay atop Grantaire as he captured his lips with his own in a slow, deep kiss.

“Fuck,” Grantaire finally huffed as they broke apart for air. “You’re good at that.”

Combeferre buried his smile in Grantaire’s shoulder, placing a kiss there as he wrapped an arm around his waist.

“Let me-”

“I’m fine,” Combeferre shook his head as he lightly swatted his hand from his jeans. “Sleep now, reciprocate later.”

Grantaire laughed though he pulled Combeferre closer, “don’t you at least want to get undressed?”

“In a minute,” Combeferre yawned, already halfway to sleep.

When Combeferre woke the next morning, he was alone.

**

A week after returning to New York for the Spring semester, Combeferre was lying on the floor of his apartment, staring at the same page of his text book for long enough it was beginning to blur in front of him. He shoved it to the side, eventually admitting defeat, rubbing his eyes before pulling his laptop closer, the notification on his email finally gaining his attention.

**From: R**

**To: Ferre**

**Subject:** **_(Empty)_ **

**(ATTACHMENT)**

Intrigued by Grantaire’s blank email, the first contact he had made since showing up at Combeferre’s on New Years Eve, Combeferre opened the attachment to find a video loading. Pressing play, Combeferre grinned as he recognised the backroom of the Musain where the Amis held their weekly meetings.

The video began focused on Enjolras and Courfeyrac as they hunched over their usual table, talking in hushed tones that signified it was the end of the meeting, a quick update of their notes that Combeferre would be a part of, were he still there.

The camera quickly moved along to the next table where Eponine and Bahorel were arm wrestling, though it ended quickly when Feuilly bent to place a kiss to his boyfriends head, distracting him long enough for Eponine to take advantage and slam Bahorel’s arm down on the table.

As Bahorel shouted ‘Cheat!” The camera zoomed into the table behind to focus on Cosette and Jehan happily whispered to each other as they peaked quick glances at something out of the camera view.

Next to grace the screen was Joly and Bossuet, their proximity to the camera so close that Combeferre suspected they were at the same table, they waved joyously at the camera and shouted greetings. Combeferre laughed as the camera was waved back and forth imitating them.

The camera was turned to focus on the back of the room where Musichetta and Marius could be seen entering with trays of drinks before Grantaire switched the camera to selfie mode, his own face filling the screen as he pulled a series of faces, sticking his tongue out and scrunching his nose before he settled on a simple smile, his eyes twinkling. It only lasted a moment before the video ended, but Combeferre rewinded the video before pausing on Grantaire’s face, his own lips curled up into a smile to mirror Grantaire’s.

**From: Ferre**

**To: R**

**Subject: There’s a Subject Bar For a Reason**

_ I needed this right now. _

**

“I’m just saying, if Aang hadn’t been such a baby and avoided all his responsibilities by running away just because he wouldn’t get to play with his friends anymore than the hundred year war could have been a lot shorter! Plus, Yue probably would have been the next Avatar and never would have died!”

“Okay, but counterpoint: he was a twelve year old child and the monks themselves admitted they usually wait until the Avatar is sixteen before revealing such responsibility, but the impending war was too great a risk to wait the additional four years. Expecting a twelve year old to master all four elements and fight a full grown bender to what was supposed to be the death is insane!”

“Well then call me Bumi!” Grantaire shouted, causing Combeferre to laugh into his coffee. The couple at the table beside him looked up at him startled and he shot them an apologetic smile.

He had been surprised when he had seen Grantaire calling him, he had been studying in a coffee shop just off campus and had answered in an almost panic before Grantaire greeted him with a direct, “I’m rewatching Avatar and I have a lot of feelings right now.”

Combeferre hadn’t even hesitated when he asked what episode he was on. They had spent over an hour going back and forth on Grantaire’s distrust of Aang ( _ ‘Remember when he tried to sabotage Katarra and Sokka seeing their dad just because he was jealous?’ _ ) and avoiding any serious topics, which seemed to Combeferre like it was becoming a recurring theme since they began emailing regularly back in January.

Finishing his coffee, Combeferre began to pack up the textbooks he had only just begun studying when Grantaire called into his bag, leaving a tip on the table as he shouldered the bag and sent a friendly wave goodbye to the barista, Grantaire continuing his rant for the three blocks Combeferre walked backed to the apartment, a humorous grin tugging at his lips.

Opening his door and tossing his keys onto the kitchen counter beside the door, he heard Grantaire suck in a shaky breath. “Are you home?”

Nodding as he opened the fridge door, Combeferre commented a short “Uh-huh,” before clicking his tongue at the meagre items in the fridge. He should have stopped off at the grocery store but he had been paying little attention to what he  _ should _ have been doing since Grantaire called.

“Okay,” Grantaire sighed, and why did he sound so breathless? “‘Cause it’s- ugh- it’s valentine's day and I thought we could have some fun…” Combeferre slammed the fridge door shut and stood up straight at what sounded like a moan.

“Some… fun?” Combeferre wet his suddenly dry lips and yes,  _ that was definitely a moan from Grantaire. _

Grantaire was getting himself off while talking to Combeferre, they hadn’t even been talking about anything sexual, Combeferre thought, panic setting in as he realised he didn’t know what he should say.

“Ferre, calm down,” Grantaire sighed, sensing Combeferre’s anxiousness. “Just talk to me. I miss you, I miss your  _ voice. _ ” He punctuated with a particularly loud moan. “Is this okay?” 

And Christ, it was more than okay, Combeferre realised, sitting down on the edge of his bed as he stared ahead at the wall. Grantaire missed him and wanted to do this together and Combeferre  _ still hadn’t said anything. _

“Yes. This is okay.” His voice was rough and he palmed himself through his jeans as he listened to R’s pants. “Are you naked right now? Spread out on the bed and thinking about me?”

“Fuck, fuck yes Ferre,” Grantaire whimped and  _ oh  _ that just went straight to Combeferre’s dick, already straining against his zipper. He quickly pulled the zip down, shucking out of his jeans and boxers before settling himself against his pillow, stroking himself lazily.

“Are you touching yourself for me, R? God, if I was there right now you would be so desperate for me wouldn’t you? You’d be open before I even got home, ready to ride me until your thighs ached and your cock was leaking, but you wouldn’t come yet, would you?” Combeferre asked, his grip tightening as he waited for Grantaire’s gasped ‘No!’.

“You wouldn’t - ugh - you wouldn’t come until I told you too, would you?” Combeferre hissed in pleasure as he swiped the precome from the head of his cock, his hips bucking into his hand. “You’d just ride -  _ fuck _ \- ride me until I had come, you’d be a desperate sobbing mess and still wouldn’t come until I said you could.” Combeferre was close and judging by Grantaire’s whimpers so was he. “So come for me, R.” There was a shout from Grantaire as he came, the noise enough to push Combeferre over the edge as he quickly followed suit.

Panting hard, Combeferre let out a laugh, “that was, well, that was unexpected.” He felt bone tired and was already dreading the short distance to the bathroom to clean up.

“I told you I missed your voice,” Grantaire teased, and Combeferre could just imagine him lying on the bed, fucked out and hair a mess against the pillow.

Combeferre hummed, biting his lip to hide a smile no one could see anyway. “I didn’t realise it was Valentines,” he admitted.

“It’s not like you needed to.” Grantaire was trying for a joke, Combeferre could tell, but it missed the mark and sounded almost bitter.

“R-”

“I need to go shower.” Grantaire interrupted, “You’ve caused quite a mess, Doctor.”

“I’m not a doctor yet.” Combeferre reminded him, but Grantaire had already hung up.

_ Quite the mess indeed. _

**

  
  


“Do you know what day it is?” 

“Tuesday?” Combeferre responded, balancing his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he juggled the stack of books in his hands and tried to lock his apartment door behind him. “Hello, by the way.”

“You’re being deliberately obtuse.” Six thousand kilometers away and Combeferre  _ knew _ Enjolras was rolling his eyes.

Combeferre began the slow decline down the four flights of stairs before responding. “I know what day it is. To be honest, I’m surprised  _ you _ know what day it is.”

There was a slight hesitation before Enjolras confirmed Combeferre’s suspicions. “Courf reminded me of the  _ exact _ date, but I did actually know it was this week.” Courfeyrac would never forget, Combeferre smiled, he knew every date of importance among his friends.

There was a huff on the other end of the line and Combeferre realised he hadn’t been listening to Enjolras’ question, “sorry, what?” he asked, reaching the end of the stairs, pushing the door open onto the street when someone immediately walked into him, sending his books sprawling to the ground.

“I asked what are you going to do about it?”

Combeferre looked down at the books, pages fluttering in the spring wind and closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I don’t know.” He admitted, before saying a clipped goodbye and dropping to his knees to deal with the mess.

Later that evening, when he paced in front of his laptop, the Skype call dial ringing repeatedly, he realised he should have thought this through more. Should have had a plan in place and at least some talking points. He realised belatedly, he should have at least planned a time to call, in case he wasn’t even home.

His worries were soon put to rest however, when the call was finally answered and a blurry image of a sitting room Combeferre didn’t recognise filled the screen.

“Hello?” Combeferre called out, stopping his pacing to sit down on the bed, pulling the laptop closer to him.

There was the sound of shuffling before Grantaire finally stepped fully into the frame. “Hey,” he said, rubbing a hand across his face. He looked tired, Combeferre noted, the bags under his eyes were dark, almost matching the shirt he wore, devoid of his usual bright colours and paint splatters. “This is a surprise.”

“No, it’s not.”

Grantaire tilted his head at the rebuttal and attempted a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “No. It’s not.” He agreed finally before the two lapsed into silence.

Combeferre really wished he had some talking points right now.

“Where are you?” Combeferre broke the silence just as it felt it was becoming suffocating, though it appeared Grantaire was surprised by the question, looking around him as if to remind him he wasn’t in his own apartment.

“You’re getting a glimpse into my childhood home,” Grantaire let out a harsh laugh that was nothing like Combeferre was used to hearing. “You should feel honoured, not everyone is so lucky.” The silence engulfed them once more and Combeferre was beginning to think this was a mistake.

Grantaire leaned forward, producing a glass half filled with a golden liquid Combeferre couldn’t quite identify, his brow furrowing subconsciously as he watched Grantaire knock it back in one.

“No need to look so disappointed,” Grantaire’s voice was hollow. “It’s only apple juice.”

“I’m not disappointed, I know it must be-”

“If you tell me you know how I feel I’m going to scream,” Grantaire interrupted with a snarl, eyes wide. “Cause, I gotta be honest here Ferre,  _ I  _ don’t know what I’m feeling, so how the fuck can you?” Combeferre didn’t have an answer for him, but Grantaire didn’t pause long enough for one anyway. “I know I’m supposed to feel bad, or sad or whatever, but I don’t, I feel none of that because right now, all I can think about is the need for a drink; a real drink, not some juice!”

Combeferre winced at the sound of shattered glass as Grantaire threw the offending drink at the wall opposite him, slumping back on the couch as he continued. “My skin feels like it's on fire with  _ need _ and I can’t give into it, Ferre, I can’t, because then I’ll be just like him, just another failed alcoholic. But, oh, the irony,” Grantaire’s mouth twisted into a grimace, “the irony of me breaking my sobriety at my fathers funeral, my fucking  _ father _ who drank himself to death.

“I don’t even fucking know why I’m here? Do you know? You always have the answer. Why am I here? Why did I come? He was a piece of shit and he had no one. Did you know I was the only one who came? Me and the priest and not another person. Is that what I have to look forward to? To drinking myself to death and no one caring enough to even make sure I did it right? My sister didn’t even come, flat out  _ laughed _ at me when I asked. Will she do the same when I eventually relapse? Will our friends? Will  _ you _ ?” Grantaire spat, finally finished, his chest heaving as he searched Combeferre for the answer.

But Combeferre didn’t have any answers Grantaire was looking for, he didn’t know what to say, to pull Grantaire from the proverbial edge. He swallowed the lump in his throat, mouth dry as he wracked his brain for something, anything, to say.

He watched as Grantaire pulled his knees up, hugging them close to his chest as he rested his chin, the wild look in his eyes slowly disappearing, only to be replaced with unshed tears, and - not for the first time - wished he was back home in Paris.

“I’m tired, Ferre, I’m so fucking tired,” Grantaire croaked.

“I might not be physically with you, R, but I’m here; I’ll always be here for you.” And that seemed to be the tipping point for Grantaire, as he buried his face in his knees, shoulders shaking as sobs tore through him, so broken and heartfelt Combeferre could almost feel them himself.

*

The phone had barely begun to ring when Combeferre snapped it up and answered without looking at the screen. “It’s our sex anniversary.” There was a beat of silence and  _ shit _ , maybe Grantaire didn’t think it was funny and Combeferre just embarrassed himself for nothing and-

“We’ve never had sex.”

_ Oh- _

__ “At least, not to my knowledge.”

_ Fuck- _

“And really, Combeferre, you don’t seem like you would be very forgettable.”

_ Joly. _

__ Combeferre groaned, turning his head to the wall and repeatedly banging it as Joly laughed at him.

“Now that’s a noise I would want to memorise!”

“ _ Joly, _ ” Combeferre pleaded, despite knowing it would only give him more ammunition to mock him.

Joly clicked his tongue in sympathy, allowing Combeferre to detach himself from the wall, rubbing his hand over his forehead before he flopped onto the bed. “I’ll keep this quick, since you’re clearly expecting a call from Grantaire - don’t make that noise at me!” Silencing Combeferre’s surprised ‘How?’ “We both know I know everything, and no, he didn’t tell me. Which I’m actually offended by, by the way. But I needed to ask you something.”

“Okay,” Combeferre answered slowly, when it became clear Joly wouldn’t continue without a response.

There was a beat of silence and Combeferre could almost hear the wheels in Joly’s head turning as he pondered the best way to ask, Combeferre’s own brain telling him that it couldn’t possibly be something good.

“R’s not in a good place right now, and he really wouldn’t be happy with me for telling you, but he relapsed after his dad died.” There was a pause and Combeferre shut his eyes as he waited for Joly to continue. “He said it was just the one night, and I believe him, but he was a mess, Ferre. Bahorel and Feuilly were out all night looking for him when they found out he was drinking.”

“When did it happen?” Combeferre croaked.

“Two weeks ago.”

Grantaire had spoken to him almost everyday since then. Between calls, texts, emails and Skype, and hadn’t mentioned it.

“He didn’t want anyone to know, it’s not just you he didn’t tell.” Joly really does know everything, Combeferre thought. “I only know because he talked about it in NA.”

If Grantaire had started back in NA then it wasn’t just drink, he had started using again too, after three years of being clean.

“I’m only telling you because, well, because Enj said you’re coming home next month. And I think you need to decide if you’re in this for the long haul, or if you’ve just been lonely.”

There was silence, though neither attempted to break it. Across the room, Combeferre could see his open laptop light up, Grantaire’s profile appearing on the screen as the Skype call rang though.

“Grantaire’s calling me,” Combeferre announced, his voice thick.

“Combeferre-”

“I need to talk to Grantaire.” Combeferre cut Joly off, hanging up before he could say any more and crossing to his laptop.

He accepted the call and it opened on Grantaire fully naked. “You didn’t answer your phone so I had to start without you.” He grinned and, shit, this would have been so much better twenty minutes ago.

“Why do you look like I need to put on clothes?” Grantaire’s smile was replaced with a frown.

Combeferre blinked back his tears as he tried to look Grantaire in the eye through the screen. “We need to talk.”

*

Six hours had never felt so long to Combeferre before, but now, as he made his way from baggage to arrivals, he felt like it had not been long enough, that he needed more time, maybe even a shower.

He walked slowly, the crowd bustling around him as he was surged forwards through the doors of no return.

There were shrieks and cries of happiness all around him as his fellow travellers were greeted by their loved ones. Combeferre ignored the noises around him, head held high as he searched through the crowd for a familiar mop of curls.

It wasn’t so much the curls that caught his attention, as it was the sign being held up high above them. The words scrawled across the cardboard beside a cartoon picture of a stetascope.

_ Doctor C _

Combeferre grinned brightly, barely keeping hold of his bag as he raced through the crowd, dropping it unceremoniously as he wrapped his arms around Grantaire, his nose burying into his hair as Grantaire leaned into him, his own arms gripping Combeferre at the waist. They held each other tightly, as if letting go would make the other vanish, and really, Combeferre thought, who could blame them when it had happened so often?

“Did you mean it?” Grantaire asked, pulling his head back only far enough to look up at Combeferre who nodded at him, his grin still plastered on his face, before he leaned down and kissed Grantaire’s lips sweetly.

“I love you.” He sighed, resting his forehead against Grantaire’s, “I’m in this for the long haul.”

Grantaire beamed and Combeferre felt like there were only the two of them in the airport.

**Author's Note:**

> Me: There needs to be more Combeferre/Grantaire fics of them together
> 
> Also me: I'm gonna separate them by 6k km


End file.
